Hey there guys, I know it's been years but I'm finally getting back into the swing of things so I thought I'd start back with a bang. This is a Tom/Hermione fic and yes it will involve some liberties being taken of the HP lore so if that's not for you then I'm sorry. Anyhow, I came up with this idea one day after reading Coroline - terrifying book my gosh! I won't give away too much but be prepared for some romance, friendship, horror and dramatic scenes. LAST THING I SWEAR - my Tom is a mixture of light and dark - he will not be some crazy abusive demon, but he will also not go skipping off into the order anytime soon. His and Hermione's relationship will be the focal point however so it will be changing between their point of views. And with that, I hope you enjoy.

The Toy Maker

Chapter 1

Tom Riddle sat huddled on the staircase of the orphanage; his obsidian eyes peering curiously between the cold metal guards that held up the handrail. On the floor below him stood Mrs Cole. She was standing, hands on her hips, facing a tall man in a black coat. However he was not the figure that caught Tom's interest. Slightly behind him and joined at their hands was a small girl in a pale blue coat. From his angle Tom couldn't see her face, but the fountain of chocolate curls that spilled around her head had almost swallowed the white ribbon that kept her hair from her eyes. He could just about hear snippets of their conversation:

"Granger- 10 Years old… Parents dead… Car accident- Dreadful things, terrible affair… No living relatives… Heir to a great estate… Room for her to stay… What with the war and all…"

Tom's ears perked up, that explained the coat and curls. Good, he thought, perhaps she'd have some interesting trinkets for him to take. It's not as if she'd miss them anyhow. Suddenly, as if she'd heard his thoughts, the Granger girl turned her head and looked up at him. Wide innocent eyes met his and he marvelled at how golden they were, almost honeyed and shaped largely like a cat's eyes. For a child she had long dark lashes - something he'd often heard the cook and Mrs Cole bemoan as they listened to their radio shows - and coral pink lips. A long time seemed to pass as their eyes stayed connected; Tom couldn't conjure a single thought as she gazed at him, it was almost as if she had emptied his mind with her bright eyes. He was roused however by the loud shrill bluster of Mrs Cole bundling the girls things into the maid's arms and waving the tall man goodbye. They seemed to have settled on the girls keep and, with a quick word to her, the man patted her hand and left.

"Right then Miss Granger, follow Miss Jenny up the stairs and she'll take you to your room and give you the uniform. We'll be having supper in an hour so one of the older children will be sent to collect you and bring you to the dining hall. But why don't you take the time to change and unpack your things." The girl was shuffled quickly to the stairs and in a hum Mrs Cole had wobbled away.

Tom, realising his hiding spot was about to be uncovered, quickly ran back to his room and watched through the key hole to see where the girl would be placed. He watched the maid struggle past his room, girl trailing slightly behind her as if she was to face a great ominous fate. He noticed her ribbon fluttering slightly in her hair and wondered idly if she had others. The door of the room next to his suddenly banged onto the wall of his bedroom that connected them. He quickly ran to his bed - sweeping the plaster and dust that had fallen from the wall onto the floor - and sat with his ear pressed against the wall. He could make out the maid Jenny's voice reminding the girl, she called Hermione, to be ready by supper. Hermione. Thinking back to the girls bright eyes, what Tom would've thought an unusual name before seemed almost perfect for her.

"Hermione" He tested the name out on his tongue. Yes, he thought again, it suited her very well. Drawing his attention back to the room, he listened hard and heard the door slam shut as Jenny left the girl alone. As he moved to relax on the bed, he heard a tiny whimper followed by a frustrated sigh. To Tom's surprise, something tugged in his chest and he felt a pull from the wall he was leaning against. It was the same feeling he'd had when he was staring into her eyes. Smacking his forehead and shaking himself, he pulled himself away from the wall and out into the hallway, moving swiftly down the stairs and away from his interesting new neighbour. He'd be watching her closely, Tom decided, very closely.

OoO

Hermione looked around at her dismal surroundings. The maid Jenny had all but slammed the door whilst leaving the room and had caused an avalanche of plaster to fall from the wall and onto her bed. Her lip wobbled as she fought the urge not to cry. Stiffling her little whimper and stamping her foot in embarrassment, she sighed and began to unpack her things. She had only herself to blame, she didn't have to be here. Her mother had asked her again and again if she wanted to go to the party. Normally Hermione loved her mother's galas - she was famous for throwing wonderful events - and she loved to stand in between her mother and her smiling papa and be presented like the little angel she was. But something told her to stay at home, something tugged at her chest and said that she should stay with her books and her dolls. Somehow she knew she'd need them. And she'd been right. Her mother used to call it her "special gift", the way she'd always know things. Sometimes silly things like what she'd be getting for her birthday or Christmas without being told. Sometimes not so silly things like when she'd known the stove was going to catch fire. If she'd only ignored her gift - she thought of it as more of a curse now - and gone with them to the party, they'd all be together. Just like always.

Drawing herself out of her thoughts, Hermione looked over to her dolls. The ones she'd made of her parents that night were staring lifelessly back at her. Picking them up gently, she placed them in the chair across from her bed and patted them softly.

"Mama… Papa… I love you."

Turning away in sadness, she removed her pretty pale day coat and slowly changed into the Orphanage's uniform. The grey pinafore had a rough inner fabric but Hermione quickly adjusted her undergarments to avoid any future lacerations. Unfortunately they hadn't provided her with any shoes to wear. Thinking of her mother - who would be appalled at her wearing clashing clothing and shoes - she rooted through her luggage and found her scuffed grey gardening shoes. A memory of her mother laughing gaily on a picnic blanket as her father slipped her a crown of daisies flowed through her mind. Slipping them onto her feet, Hermione padded around the room and began to place her things into the wardrobe and drawers provided. Whilst the space was limited, Hermione had not brought her more delicate gowns or special trinkets given to her from birth. Her special gift had guided her packing and somehow she knew the more precious of her belongings would be safer in her family home. She had opted to bring the more casual day dresses and one plain looking evening dress - with the exception of the dress she'd worn to the orphanage. She had brought only necessary things such as a few of her favourite books, her dancing slippers and her dolls, that she'd made so lovingly with her own two hands. Most had been packed in boxes in her bedroom, waiting for her to return to them all. But Hermione had brought her favourites along with her; her two fantastic beasts - the guardians of her sleep, her father called them - and the ones of her parents. As for her other possessions; from what she had gathered from the tall lawyer of her parents' - and now hers - she was sole owner of all that resided on the grounds of her family estates. As she was not old enough to legally live alone without a guardian, she had to reside in the orphanage until her 16th birthday - only then could she go back to her home and run the estates as mistress. Until then her family home was to be kept in perfect condition by the trusted staff that had helped raise her since birth and their trusted family friend Leopold Grigori would run the company. Hermione smiled as she thought of uncle Leo; as her godfather and father's oldest friend, he had tried hard to fight for custody of her after her parents deaths. Unfortunately, as he was not a blood relative, he was unable to do so and the lawyer had brought her to Wool's Orphanage the next day.

Having finished her unpacking, Hermione flopped backwards onto the rigid bed - which let out an indignant squeak. She wondered if she'd have time for a quick nap before being called for supper, but before she could even close her eyes a loud knock sounded from her door. Getting up quickly and straightening her pinafore, she walked quickly over to it and opened it wide. There before her stood a small, rectangular looking girl. Her pudgy face looked up at Hermione - who was by no means tall herself - and tucked her dirty blonde pigtails behind her ears.

"You must be the new girl. Come along, it's time for dinner."

And with that, she turned and stomped away. Hermione hurried after her, the door closing behind her with a thud. They walked silently along the corridor and down the stairs; neither speaking except for the occasional wheeze the girl would let out. As they reached the dinner hall Mrs Cole came flapping over.

"Ahh Miss Granger, right on time. Follow Penelope to the cook's station over there and get yourself some food. Quick march now Penelope!" The girl, Hermione now knew as Penelope, nodded hurriedly to Mrs Cole and scurried across the hall like a frightened rat. Hermione followed her slowly and thanked her as she pointed out the cutlery and tray cart. The cook, an unpleasant smelling woman with a large bust and rather bristled upper lip, dumped the unappealing looking paste onto Penelope and Hermione's trays and grunted them along. Penelope ushered Hermione over to a table and sat down next to a boy that looked similiar, though a little older than Penelope. Hermione sat on the chair across from her, next to a girl who sniffed at her, then looked over to Penelope who was poking at her food. Looking up, Penelope eyed Hermione nervously across the table and coughed a little.

"This is my brother, Dennis Bishop. You already know my names Penelope but most people call me Penny and you can call him Denny." 'Denny' let out a croak of hello as Hermione smiled at him.

"That next to you is Amy Benson." Amy sniffed again and looked at Hermione.

"You look rather clean for an orphan." Her voice was small but still the snide nature of her comment shone through. Hermione blinked back at her.

"Well I am rather new at it. My parents are not long dead." Amy sniffed for the third time but nodded her assent. Hermione wondered if the girl had a cold.

"So what's your name?" Penny asked, taking a small bite of the food on her tray.

"I'm Hermione Jean Granger. Nice to meet you all." It wasn't particularly nice, but she had been raised with manners and wasn't going to lose them now. Penny nodded and carried on eating her food. Hermione decided it might be time to try her own food and instantly regretted it. The greying paste tasted like the inside of an ashtray - not the warm smoky taste that used to linger in the air from her father's cigars, but the dirty sticks the local builders sometimes left in the street. Grimacing Hermione tried another mouthful, somehow it got worse with the second bite. Lumps of what felt like rancid, rubbery fish lined the paste and she swallowed it quickly. No longer pausing to taste the food as she ate fast and controlled, her hunger overcoming the foulness of the concoction. Once she'd finished, she moved the tray away from her and looked about the room. The dining hall was not large. By all means it looked just like a long hall, narrow in width with many small tables rammed into the available space. It had a set of double doors as its only entrance, along with a single door reading: STAFF ONLY - that Hermione assumed led to the kitchens. The walls were a peeling mess, a theme running throughout the orphanage it seemed, and were painted a dirty chartreuse - not remotely appealing to the naked eye. Looking around at the other children she saw a few faces staring back at her. A group of older girls was looking over at her, eyeing her hair and snickering unkindly to each other. Another table of boys that seemed around her age were staring at her too. The apparent leader of the boys was sneering at her with his piggish nose and nudging the boy next to him. Hermione's eyes kept moving around the tables until they were caught in a familiar black stare. It was the boy from the staircase, he was sitting at a table all alone and hadn't appeared to have touched his food. Looking more closely at his face, Hermione felt a flush rise to the top of her chest. His eyes were a perfect black, though if she squinted she was sure she'd see a hint of sage green in them. His hair was as dark as his eyes, complementing the alabaster skin of his face. However his lips stood out starkly, an almost impassive rouge colour stretched thin below the nose. All of a sudden, the boy sent her a small half smile. It wasn't a smirk like the other boys had been sending, but it unnerved her all the same. She wondered just how long he'd been watching her.

OoO

Tom watched as the girl entered the dining hall. He had been sat alone at his usual table for twenty minutes after narrowly avoiding Billy and his idiotic crew - consisting of the rest of the older boys - once more. Since the incident last week where they'd cornered him in the stairwell and Tom's 'ability' had sent them flying down the first flight, he wished to avoid anymore punishment chores from Mrs Cole. He noticed Billy and Eric nudging each other as she walked past Mrs Cole; probably excited for a new victim, he thought dully. Hermione was being led by the small wheezing girl known as Penny; she and her ridiculous brother always shied away from him and Tom liked that they kept their distance. If only all the scum in this place did the same. He watched Hermione walk to their cook and was surprised to see how her small hips swayed - it was something he had only seen before in the older girls, not counting Mrs Cole's unattractive waddling that was sometimes over exaggerated when men came to orphanage. Shoving the horrendous image from his thoughts, he watched the wild haired girl sit with wheezy Penny, her brother and her annoying friend Amy. That Amy girl was always simpering around Billy Stubbs and his sidekick Eric Whalley. Tom wouldn't be surprised if she'd done any 'special favours' for them to earn their esteem or leniency. It was a common trait amongst the older girls to fornicate with male workers and other orphans for their gain. He'd even heard rumours of some having been paid for their services to sailors from the Royal Navy that had passed through town. Looking at the new girl, he thought it seemed unlikely for her to become some such girl. After all she was a rich orphan - something practically unheard of in this place. Tom pondered just how long it would be until some money sniffing adoptive parents came and took her away. Just then her eyes met his and instantly their hypnotic honeyed glaze drew all thoughts from his head. For a moment Tom just gaped at her - facial muscles controlled as always - but she didn't seem too perturbed by his staring, and for all he knew she didn't know just how long he'd been watching her. It gave him time to study her face and he was taken aback at how oddly drawn he was to the perfect 'O' shape her lips had made in surprise. Suddenly a thought entered his mind. Smile at her, it said. It was strange, yet again, the effect this girl was having on him. But nonetheless he complied, shooting her a small, slanted smile - somewhat difficult for him to achieve as he was unused to it. He wasn't prepared for the blush he saw creeping up the base of her neck, instead he tried hard to push away the strange pull he felt for the second time that day. Finally the girl broke eye contact with him and seemed to rouse herself, before leaning over to speak to Dennis. After several seconds of her speaking Dennis paled and began clearing his tray, finishing quickly and scurrying out of the hall. Tom wondered what she had said to him, and watched as - a few moments later - she too cleared her tray and set off out of the hall. Deciding to follow her, he stood - leaving his tray to fester like the slop it was - and followed her slowly out of the hall. Narrowly avoiding one of Billy's cronies' attempts to trip him, Tom caught a glimpse of her curls heading down the hall towards the door to the gardens.

OoO

Hermione made her way through the rusted door and out into the garden. She needed a moment to herself, away from giggling girls and loud, mannerless boys. She needed time away from all the staring and whispering, the ugly building and utterly terrible food. And mostly she needed her eyes away from the boy with terribly alluring eyes. As she walked through the unkempt grass, Hermione recalled the conversation she'd had with Penny moments before.

"Did I say something to offend him?" Hermione asked, as Dennis rushed out of the door. "I just wanted to know who the boy sitting alone was." Penny shook her head and lowered her eyes to the table, darting them around quickly to see if anyone was looking.

"You mentioned him..." She said in a hushed whisper, as if Hermione had uttered a dirty word. Hermione looked back at her confused.

"Him? You mean the boy at the table?"

"Shh!" Penny cut her off. "Stop mentioning him, he'll know." Hermione was even more confused now.

"But I don't understand-"

"Oh for god's sake," Amy groaned rolling her eyes at the two of them and leaned back in her chair, arms folded defensively. "Penny will you get a grip. You and Denny are so yellow when it comes to him. That's Tom Riddle, new girl. He's our resident freak. A few people are afraid of him and say that he can curse you without even looking at you. It's all just bullshit, that's what Billy says. He's just a freaky little weirdo who doesn't talk so just do what we all do and ignore him. Billy and Eric will get him one of these days anyway."

Hermione stopped her walk and sat on the white stone bench at the end of the garden. She wondered if it was true, could he really curse people? Was he special like her? She shook her head, no one should be cursed like she is. All the same, it'd been so long since she let her special secret flow free. Looking around quickly and smiling to herself, Hermione reached up to the tree beside her and beckoned her hands towards it. Slowly but surely, a few leaves came loose from the branches close to her and floated towards her outstretched fingers. Turning her fingers in small semi circles, she twisted her wrist and sent the leaves soaring around in a circle above her head. Hermione smiled as one by one they joined together in the form of a royal circlet - it had been her mother's favourite trick - and she curled her fingers slowly into a fist as they floated themselves down and placed themselves neatly on her head. Closing her eyes, Hermione thought back to the memories of making these for her mother as a child, the happiness lighting up her mother's soft brown eyes making her feel like the most gifted child in the world. Just as she conjured an image of her father's face, she heard a loud crack emanate from behind her. Jumping heavily, she turned to see the boy from earlier - the feared and loathed Tom Riddle - standing inches from her.

OoO

Whew! Well I'm shattered, this took me a whole night to finish. I hope it wets your appetites enough to let me know what you thought of it. In any case I'm going to try and get the next chapter out in the following week. Till then my dearies!